


I Still See You

by deadlymilkovich



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gay Male Character, Hospitalization, LGBTQ Character, M/M, POV First Person, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlymilkovich/pseuds/deadlymilkovich
Summary: Steve realizes how bad he’s gotten, and that he needs to get help.Post season 3TW: Major Character Death, talks about hospitals/psych wards, talks about hallucinations, talks about mental health issues





	1. I shouldn’t have waited

I made my way down the stairs, nerves wracking up my body as I went down each step. The laughter of the party could be heard the moment I started walking down, and it got louder as I reached the bottom. I waved to everyone, and they smiled and greeted me, offering me a seat. I took it, and I rubbed my palms into my jeans. Nervousness settled into my stomach like a rock, a boulder. Everyone could sense something was off, and they quieted down, talking a tad softer.

“What’s up man?” Dustin asks, concern written all over his face. I let out a shaker breath, probably the most nervous and anxiety filled sigh ever, and I looked at them.

“I’m admitting myself into a psych ward.”

The group broke into a harsh silence, and I flinched at the quite of it all. And then their words came.

“What the hell!” Mike yells, tossing the chocolate bar he had in hand. I could hear it drop, but I didn’t look.

“I’m... I’m leaving to go to a psych ward.” I say, hanging my head low, away from his eyes. I can feel everyone’s on me, it feels so fucking terrible to have so many eyes on you. It’s like being watched by vultures.

“Steve...” I hear Max say, and I look up as Lucas stomps his foot, and my head shoots back down. He stops, and I look up again.

“You can’t just throw yourself into a looney bin!” Lucas shouts, on his feet and tears forming in his eyes. Max grabs onto his hand and pulls him back away, a frown upon her face.

Dustin is crying, thick tears roll of his cheeks, and he looks like he’s about to scream, or beg me not to go. I get ready for the yelling, the anger, the emotional slap in the face that he was ready to give me. Instead, he whispers, and somehow it hurts even more.

“Why? Why are you-”

He can’t finish it, his throat restricts too much for him to continue, but it doesn’t stop the amount of raw emotion pouring out of his eyes. I feel tears fall from my eyes, hot tears, wetting my lips and letting a salty taste in. I rubbed at them hard. I can’t do that to them during this. I shouldn’t be crying, not right now.

“Too many reasons guys. I’ll be in for a month and a half, but Robin is gonna take over when I’m gone. If I’m gone longer, I promise I’ll let you know.” I say, voice shaky and rough. Mike shakes his head. I feel guilt flood in like waves.

“Give us one reason you’re going in. Just one, please.” He asks, and I can see the hurt in his face. I hang my head, letting the tears fall to the carpet.

“The nightmares. His death. The demodogs...” I say. Max takes a sharp breath in, and I know that’s when she knows why, or rather who, made me finalize this idea. She came to me every day after school after him. She practically lived in my house for two months, all the while I was having the same issues. It just kept getting worse, and I couldn’t figure out how to stop it. The psych ward was the last thing that graze my mind, and after half a year, half a god damned year, his death got too hard to deal with. The psych ward finally crossed my mind, and it was like puzzle pieces connecting. I knew I needed help, and more than just therapy. I knew I had to go.

Eleven stands up, making her way to me. She towers over me when I sit, and she looks down at me with no expression at all.

Suddenly, I’m being hugged, and I can feel her shoulders shake from the crying. I wrap my arms around her, holding her hard against my chest as she sinks to her knees. She hiccups, but she doesn’t let go. Her body is hot, and her tears are staining my shirt, I can feel the moisture through the fabric, but I could care less. She was terrified for me. She was scared for me, because she had never had a single good experience with hospitals, or wards or anything. She grew up in a lab, dressed in a hospital gown, with a shaved head like she was a god damn lunatic, when in all reality, she was a scared kid, who wanted her father and a happy childhood.

She knew it was for the better, it was to help me, but it had to be in a hospital, a “bad place”, and she hated it.

I felt her pull away, and I can barely pull myself enough to wipe away her tears. It hates me to hurt these kids, but I can’t keep going the way I’m going.

“I’m not doing this to make you feel like you’re not good enough to keep me safe, but I just can’t do it. I can’t keep living with these nightmares, or any of the constant little voices in my head. I can’t deal with... seeing him.” I say.

El places her head on my knee, pressing her nose into the bone. Dustin moves to crowd into my leg space with her, resting his head onto my thigh. His cheeks are wet, and he wipes at them once he’s situated. Lucas and max both come and sit by me, and I know if I tried to stand I would probably step on at least two of the kids. They trapped my legs, almost like they were saying “don’t go” in the most subtle way possible.

“What time do you go in? To the ward.” Will asks, avoiding my eyes as he plays with a loose string in his jeans. Will looks at me, and I breath in a bit before answering. God I hated that I decided to pop this now. I should have done it the day I told Nancy, or the day I told Jonathan, I should have done it sooner. Nothing I could do now.

“In a day. I should have told you sooner, I know, but I had to tell you before I went in. I’m sorry I didn’t say it when I should have, but I can’t do anything about it now.” I say, and he nods, and I can see the disappointment written on his face like it was tattooed permanent. Mike stands up, and for a minute I think he’ll try to do what Lucas did, stomp and shout, but he starts pacing. El watches him, eyes trailing back and forth till he stops.

“Steve, you are the-“ Mike starts, jaw set and ready to spit venom, but Will and Max jump up and he turns to them. Dustin starts scowling, and I just keep my eyes focused on Elevens shirt. It’s a cute purple shirt with a zigzag pattern on it. She got it with Max.

“What the hell is wrong-“ Max yells, Mike turning to get into her face.

“Mike why would you-“ Will starts to ask, until Mike swigs his hand and almost hits Will in the face.

“Don’t even start Will-“ He shouts, and Max pulls him away from Wills shocked face.

They fight for half an hour, and Lucas gets up within that time to rally behind Max and Will, bringing up times when Mike did shitty things, or times that Mike did things without ever telling the party till afterwards.

Eleven and Dustin don’t move, if anything I’m pretty positive Dustin fell asleep on me. Eleven was rubbing her thumb in circles on my shin, and for a moment everything seemed still.

The shouting from the argument drowned away, and for a second I honestly believe I’ve fallen asleep, or blacked out. I’m so tired. It’s so hard, and I’m so damn tired. I realize I dozed off, or at least closed my eyes for a moment when El shakes my shoulder and my eyes shoot open.

“They’ve stopped.” She says, and I smile, and pat her hair. It’s gotten longer, but she trims it regularly with Joyce’s help.

“Thanks.” I whisper.

Mike is no where to be seen, but Will, Max and Lucas are all sitting on the couch in front of me.

“Are we able to come see you before you get admitted? Or whatever.” Lucas says, and I nod.

“You can come and see me up until I’m past their “only patients and workers” door. You can stay in the waiting room and have Joyce or Robin, or Jonathan and Nancy come pick you guys up.” I say, and Max nods, grabbing onto my hand.

“Can I stay at your house tonight?” She asks.

I couldn’t imagine the thoughts whirring in her head.

She had been grieving for so long, and she had stayed with me for so long because of it, and yet, here I was, facing the same demons she had, over her own family. She knew, but at the same time it seemed worse.

I don’t want to say it was worse for me, but sometimes it seemed like it was. Seeing him lie there, sometimes it seemed like the image was tattooed to the front of my mind. I saw it almost every night in my dreams, along with the flayer, the demodogs, and demogorgan.

It all seemed so close, detailed and tiring that sometimes I couldn’t tell what was a dream and what was reality.

And I fully believed max knew what it was like.

“Of course you can. God knows my parents won’t be home for a while.” I say.

“Can we all,” Will starts, his face flush. “Can we all stay?”

He looked at me, and I swore he looked at me like my answer depicted the universes chance of surviving. And maybe to Will it did. Maybe it did.

“How could I say no?”


	2. What’s it like to be alone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets admitted into the hospital and he says goodbye to the gang

“Steve...” I heard, and I turned away from it.

I was so cold, and the heavy comforter seemed as though it was paper thin. My body was frigid, and I couldn’t find any warmth near me, making me curl up more in search for it.

Something shakes me, lightly. I stir, but ignore it and continue my search. I just want warmth. Good, comforting warmth. His warmth...

The shake gets harsher.

“Steve wake up.”

That time I open my eyes. The light is dull, but I can see Robin bending over in front of my face. I blink a few times, and she smiles. It’s not a happy smile, I can see that, it’s a “sorry you have these issues and I’m sorry I can’t help and I’m sorry you have to do this” smile. She had so many of those, and so often around me. I didn’t blame her, I could never, but I wanted to see her smile normal again. I wanted my friend back, but without the worry and sadness.

“Hey there.” She says, and I yawn, stretching out until my joints shake. Robin steps away and I fall back into the bed. The air hits my chest and makes me colder, and I move to throw off the covers and start the day. Robin grabs something off my dresser, and I realize I fell asleep in my jeans, and I can feel the fabrics print in my legs. It makes me wanna itch at the lines, so I move my legs over the side of the bed and start removing the tight fabric.

Robin comes over with clothes in her hands, and she sets them on the bed.

“Never thought I’d see you strip in front of me Harrington.” She chuckles, and I smile, pulling on the pants and sweater she grabbed.

The pants are baggy and cuffed at the ankle, and sorta itchy. The hoodie is soft though, and I remember it was a gift from my grandmother. She had apologized for not having time to knit me one, so she picked one up from JC Penny, and wrapped it special for me before my family stopped by. It was a grey color, with a small stain on the cuff from getting spaghetti on it that same night.

My body is still frigid cold.

“Your shoes are downstairs, same with breakfast. I got the kids situated already.” Robin says, and I look at her. Her hair is pulled back in a pony tail, but some of her hairs stick up, or fall in her face. She was always a pretty girl, and I can admit that I used to have the biggest crush on her in freshman year. But those feelings were behind me now. She was family now.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you right now. I’m such a mess, and I’m really thankful you went to the lengths to even help the kids.” I say, and she nods, smiling at me. I smile back, it’s broken and my lips feel frozen, but I smile.

We both make our ways downstairs, and I can see Eleven and Dustin at the table. Max is behind El, braiding her hair. Max was always good at that, braiding.

She always told me it was her mother who taught her, and I believed her. I’d never met Susan, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever want to. Max made it pretty clear that her mother was a naive, close minded and wistful woman, and she believed women belong in the kitchen, and that they have to be proper. Max had never once tried to be proper or ladylike, unless she wanted to be. I don’t think I’d ever seen her wear a dress or put on lots of make up, but that was something I admired about her. She was her authentic self.

Lucas and Mike were eating bacon, laughing together.

They had drifted away from the group when Max and eleven broke up with them, but they’d made up past that point. Mike was still a little shit, but less so now. He stopped treating El like she was glass, but the group also stopped treating her like she was their only help. Like she was their only option.

“Steve.” Eleven says, and everyone’s eyes land on me. I feel a cold shock run through me, so I double into myself, rubbing my arms and shivering. Max moves away from Elevens hair and brings me a blanket off the couch.

“You’re so cold...” she whispers to me after touching my forehead. I nod, and she frowns while draping the blanket around me. Robin moves behind us as Max leads me down the stairs.

“We’re gonna leave in 30 minutes, okay.” Robin says, allowing me to sit in front of a small plate of food.

Bacon and eggs, with half a slice of diagonally cut toasted and buttered bread.

I was able to get down the toast and eggs, but the bacon seemed almost uneatable. The cooked meat just... looked so, familiar. It was fatty, and crunchy and dark. It reminded me of some of the black blood. The thick and gross blood.

“Steve... it’s time to go.” Lucas says, waving a hand in front of my face. I shake my head, clearing the image of dripping goo out of my head. I stand up and trudge to the door, where my sneakers sit.

They were new, a gift from my mother. They were red with little white stripes on the back heel. She always got me gifts when she couldn’t make a day home. Always.

I sat down and put them on, not caring that the laces were in different spots, or that I’d end up getting one of the too long tied off bows stuck under my feet three times. I was tired, cold, and scared. I was scared even though everyone was with me.

“Do you want me to grab you the blanket Steve?” I hear El ask, and I nod.

The blanket is new, one that my mother purchased in the wintertime. It’s fluffy and large, and big enough to wrap myself in it. She’d gotten it because I liked it.

We headed out the door, Robin opening the vans side door for the kids to pile in.

I remember Robin announcing that she had purchased the damn thing, an old 60’s funk van with terrible orange strips and brown bottom. She liked it though, and I suppose it proved useful people wise now. It was big enough to fit all of us, so I couldn’t complain.

I wiggled into the passenger seat, curling up and closing my door. I wrapped the blanket around me, pulling it up to my chin and letting the fabric soothe me.

I fell asleep after that, or half asleep, as I could still hear the kids and Robin talking, about what, I couldn’t tell you.

The ride was a little bumpy, making the van jump and rock every time we hit a pot hole or there was a speed bump. It made my skin crawl.

Too soon, the van stopped. Robin turned off the ignition, and shook my shoulder. I got up, and I realize my body was a tad warm. It was freezing anymore, but I doubted it would last long. I was feeling queasy anyways.

“Hey Will can you grab his bag?” I heard her say.

My bag was full of sleeping clothes. Hoodies, sweats, baggy shit that I barely ever wore. Even some of his shirts and tanks... just comfortable clothes. I don’t think I can dress like a normal human being here, even if they forced me too. I’d look out of place and awkward.

I shook my head and bundled my blanket up in my hands before I stepped out of the van. The kids piled out beside me, and we started our walk to the doors.

The hospital smell wasn’t super strong but it was there. The chemical clean smell.

Robin and I walk at the front of the group, getting stares from other people as the kids trail behind us. God damned people.

We ask an employee where the medical ward, or the psych ward rather, is, and they lead us there, stopping in the waiting room for us. Robin takes the kids over to sit, and I hand her my blanket before walking over to the check ins desk.

The desk has a glass pane in front of it, with a small break on the bottom for things to be slid in and out of. There’s an older lady behind said glass. Her hair is wrapped up nicely, reminding me a bit of Isabella in Gotham, but her features a lot more tired.

She has thin rimmed glasses, and behind them show dull eyes, a dark green color. Her lips are pursed a little as she reads off a message from her computer.

I tap my finger on the plastic ridge of the desk area, waiting for her to finish her reading, and I take in the hospital.

It’s surprisingly not stark white. The floor is a light grey, and the walls are painted baby blue, with paper notices pinned up or taped to the walls. They’re all a yellow colored paper.

On the doors are red warnings, or labels for the sections. This door reads “psychiatric care unit.”

“Oh hello young man.” I hear. I turn to the lady, and she’s smiling at me kindly. I force a smile back.

“I’m here to check in.” I say, and she nods, moving her chair back to the monitor computer.

“Name and date of birth?” She asks, looking at me afterwards.

“Steve, Steve Harrington. And I was born April 24th, 2001.” I say. She types the information in, and I wait for her again. This time I study my shoes.

“Alright Mr. Harrington here’s your admission forms. Now you are aware you’re staying for 45 days, from today, September 10th, to October 25th, and that you will only be allowed visits from 1pm to 7pm.” She says, and I nod, saying yes after. She slides the papers under the glass, and follows it with a black pen.

I grab the clip board and read over all the information. I fill in my name, my date of birth, my parents, my emergency contacts, you get the gist. I sign my name again at the bottom, and I hand her back the board and pen, her red painted nails catching my eyes.

Dark red... like his shirt.

I shake my head and she looks at me.

“Are you alright dear?” She says, and I nod.

“Memory, nothing bad, I’m okay.” I say, and she smiles.

She doesn’t believe me, but that’s okay. If I were here in a place like this, I would probably not believe me either.

“Alright, I’ll have you submitted in in a moment, in the meanwhile take a seat in the waiting room and I’ll have an attendee come and get you.” She says, and I thank her, before walking over to Robin and the kids.

“Hey dingus.” Robin says, and hands me back the blanket, but it’s folded. I smile and take it, setting it down on the table and taking a seat.

The seats are just as uncomfortable as any of the others, and I hate how I can’t sit anywhere comfortably without some hard plastic hitting my sides or digging into my legs.

“Will has your bag.” Robin says, and she rubs my shoulder. I’ve settled into a curled position with the blanket under my head, and my legs curling through the chairs arm rest and onto the seat beside me on my right.

She sat beside me and laid her elbow on the blanket. She continued to rub my shoulder, and it eases my nerves a bit, and anyone who came by or looked at us probably called us a couple.

If circumstances were different, if she were straight and I weren’t a wreck devastated over... people... we would probably be a couple. But god knows he has the power to make people function at his will. And he abused that power so much it’s a wonder how he isn’t the devil.

“Hey Dustin...” I ask quietly, and he turns. He, Eleven and Lucas were playing with the little kid toys, the wooden bead ones, when I said his name. He smiles.

“What’s yo man?”

“Can you sing for me?” I ask, and Max snorts, making Lucas turn to her and laugh.

Dustin smacks Lucas in the arm, grumbling under his breathe while he stands up and moves over to me.

“You will all shut up about me and Susie, dammit.” He grumbles. He looks up to me, and smiles.

“What song dude?”

“Chateau... you know.” I say, and he nods. Robin pulls out her phone, and I see her snap a pic of us. She smiles, and puts it away, and Dustin starts singing, his voice filling the room softly.

“Help, something’s wrong, with me, homesick for LA, In the summer of my life, that’s when we first met, through a friend, something about you makes me feel like I can, was it a dream or is it all in the past? I just thought I'd ask.”

“So I turn back the time, I’m at the chateau and I feel alright, I turn back the time, I’m at the chateau and I feel alright...” I whisper, and I can feel the groups eyes on me, and Dustin starts crying.

“What are we gonna do with out you asshole?” Dustin asks.

I laugh, and tears prick my eyes. I ruffle his hair, for once without a baseball cap on, and he lets the tears fall.

“You’ll live, I come back before Halloween kid.” I say, and he laughs.

“Will you even have time to get a costume?” He asks.

“Me and Robin can go as each other.” I say, and Robin flicks my head, laughing.

“Tough chance, me and Heather are going as Han Solo and Leia.” She smirks.

“Okay so what else can I go as?”

“Go as Spider-Man.” Eleven says, and I smile.

“Friendly neighborhood Bi-der-Man.” I chuckle, and the group cracks up.

“Will you though? Go as Spider-Man?” Dustin asks.

I contemplate it for a moment, thinking through the image of what me in a spandex spider suit would look like.

“Buy me a suit, I’ll pay you back.” I say finally, and the group cheers, the crud and laughs dying instantly when a doctor steps in through the door.

“Mr. Harrington, I’d like you follow me sir.”

“Steve...” Will says as I get up, grabbing my blanket. He hands me my duffle bag, and I set it down as the group hugs me.

Robin let’s them pass before giving me a final hug.

“Me and Heather will pick you up when you, when you get out.” She says, her voice thick and her eyes red from oncoming tears.

I nod, giving her a final hug. I let her go, picking up the bag and stuffing the blanket into it. I make my way up to the doctor, and he leads me through the door. I turn and see the kids faces one last time, before that baby blue wall covers them up, leaving me with nothing but my clothes, a fucking make up gift, and a large set of emotional and mental baggage.

“We’re leading you to your room, I’ve read your papers and made sure to give you a room alone.”

Oh great. More empty space, more nothing.

“Thank you sir.”

“Please, call me Doctor Richardson, or Rich, if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! If I’ve made any mistakes in my writing please notify me so I can change it !
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated


	3. 2,448

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the beginning

Dr. Richardson leads me to a rec room, people sitting around and playing with some of the objects laid around for them. Two of them stare me down, and I feel my skin crawl with their eyes on me.

“Your room is this way.” The doctor says, opening the door, and opening his hand to signal me going in.

I step in, flipping on the light switch, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light before stepping in fully.

My bed is in the corner, fitted with white sheets, and the wall beside it is made up of black chalk paint. There’s a cup of blue and white chalk beside the end of the bed. There’s a chair for me to sit in beside the bed, a few feet away, and beside the chair is a desk. On the wall opposite of my new bed was a closet, with big brown doors and silver handles. There’s a small bathroom by the door that opens into my room.

“Your nurse will be over here soon, so get settled until then, Steven.” Richardson says, and I nod. He closes the door.

“It’s Steve.” I correct him.

I set my duffle bag on the bed, and I unzip it.

I packed my bag the day after I got approved for the hospital. My doctor gave me a list of clothing I could bring, but I ignored half of the list, and I packed a lot of comfy clothes.

I pulled out all my sweatpants, my shirts and tank tops, my hoodies, and I double checked to make sure the strings were out of the hoods before taking them to the closet and hanging them up. I don’t hang the tank tops up for a while.

I put my bag at the end of my bed, and took a seat at the edge. I look at the bed frame. It’s a thick dark wood frame, not like mine at home. Mines made of silver steel.

I stare at the closet, the pile of tank tops on my desk, the chair beside my bed. I just stare.

If anything I feel like I’ll go crazy in a place like this, rather than get better. Oh wait, the chalk.

I shuffle over to to the cup, and I grab a piece of chalk. My fingers are covered in the powder instantly, and it makes me think of when I was young. When I would draw on the sidewalk. When my dad would wash it off in the morning.

I push the tip into the chalk wall, dragging it along. I sketch whatever I sketch, reflecting on my life before now.

My childhood was neglectful, to say the least. My father hated me, hated that I spent time doing what I wanted instead of business like him, angry over the fact that I dated Tommy for a year, despised me for loving Nancy, and wanting her and I to work out. Nothing pissed him off more than Billy though.

Pretty Billy with his always open shirts and his flirtatious smile and his ocean deep eyes.

I shift to lay on my bed, closing my eyes and thinking of us.

The ice cream dates, the night drives, our first time, the camping trips, waking up next to one another, talk of moving away...

“You thinking of me pretty boy?”

I open my eyes, and I can see him standing by the door.

He’s covered in black goo. That fucking goo that I can see when close my eyes. The nightmarish gashes on his chest, the big cut on his cheek, 

“Billy not now. Please.” I look away, tears filling my eyes. I can hear feet shuffling.

“That’s what you always say, asshole.” He responds. I nod, keeping my eyes on the ceiling.

“Yeah. I know.” I whisper.

“Know what?” A young ladies voice asks, and I bolt up.

She has bob cut black hair, and she’s wheeling in a small cart.

“Nothing.” I say, sitting up and wiping my face. She smiles at me, white teeth flashing at me through a light shade of pink lips.

“Hallucinations?” She asks, turning her head away, towards the cart, and uncapping a bottle, removing two pills. I shift a little on the bed.

“Y-yeah.” I mumble, mentally scolding myself for stuttering. She nods.

“About what?” She continues, and I watch as she works through her bottles. I smile a little.

“Someone. My partner. They’re dead now, though. I started hallucinating a month and half after they died, but I suppose you already know that.” I reply.

“I do. Tell me about them.” She says, handing me a cup of water and drops the pills into my hand.

Six pills.

I take my time, realizing quickly that I can’t swallow them all at once like my grandfather. I chug the water, thanking her afterwards. I lean against the wall as she takes a seat in my desk chair.

I pick at my nails for a moment, clearing out the dirt underneath them. She waits patiently, allowing me to do as I please.

“He was fucking beautiful. Long dirty blonde curls, big blue eyes, pretty smile. He moved to Hawkins from California. He hated it here, till he met me. He actually met me because of an old friend of mine, he wanted to challenge me for popularity. After a few fights and more than a few black eyes, I fought him back. His kid sister, who’s still around, tranquilized him and threatened him with my old baseball bat. Told him to grow a pair and stop acting like a child around me. He was drugged but he complied to her wishes.” I say, smiling. The night at the Byers house still feels so close, soon, like it happened last week or so. I happened almost two years ago.

“He invited me out to coffee, we had to drive two hours to get something decent. We found a Starbucks, and took a seat, waiting for our orders. I remember his like the back of my hand. ‘Black coffee with cream and a slice of banana bread.’ He split the slice with me, even.” She nods at me, and I look at her before talking again.

“He apologized, told me he never meant for it to go as far as it did, that he was doing it for my old friend, trying to prove his worth through my bruised nose bridge. It was half assed to say the least, but I think that’s where I fell in love with him. He was genuine, half assed apology be damned. We hung out all the time after that.”

“This is where you tell me you guys became mutual buddies isn’t it?” The nurse snickers, and I laugh.

“No, actually. We went on a date, my treat, and I let him stay at my house. We were making up a desert, ice cream with brownie crumble. He hugged me from the behind, and I popped the question. It just felt so natural. So perfect. He said yes, thank god, and he fell into my love life so smoothly after that.” I beam. I probably look like a dumbass, all red and shit. The nurse didn’t say anything about it.

“My old friend became his old friend, and he hung out with Robin, Nancy and Jonathan more. They’re my best friends. Good people. The kids got used to seeing him around, kids being Max’s friends, I babysit, and he was just the best around us.”

“Sounds like a keeper.” She replies. I nod.

“He was.”

“But then the accident?” She asks.

“Yeah... and then the accident.” I frown.

“We had planned a date the night before he crashed his car. Before whatever infected him infected him.” I whisper, mucus coating my throat from my emotions. Clearing my throat, I continue.

“He alway wanted to go back to California, and he wanted me to join him. We were going to talk about moving out there. Graduation was a month and half away at the time.” I say, and I can’t force myself to smile. God, he wanted to leave so bad. Escape his dad, live with me. And he never fucking got to.

“I can’t help but blame myself for the accident sometimes. Survivors guilt, my therapist used to say. I sometimes wonder if I could have done something, maybe scheduled the date earlier? Or not even at all. I d’know.” I sigh.

“Well, there’s nothing you can do now.” She says, and she moves up from the chair, pushing it back in.

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later Steve.”

“Yeah... you too.”

-

It’s been six years since my stay at the hospital. 2,448 days ago, I admitted myself into a psych ward, took pills every single day for a month and a half, went to every rehab meeting, attended every counseling group.

I’m 24 now, and I live in an apartment a mile away from the ocean. California was beautiful, and the weather barely ever soiled. It’s where we planned to live after graduation.

2,448 days.

And I never saw him again.

Somehow, that’s what’s more painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! If I’ve made any mistakes in my writing please notify me so I can change it !
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! If I’ve made any mistakes in my writing please notify me so I can change it !
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated


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